


my heart's still beating, guess I'm pretty lucky

by theherocomplex



Series: Journey of the Featherless [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex
Summary: Clearly, Jaal didn't skip thekiss your lover till they lose their mindseminar.





	

It's impossible for Jaal to say when he loves Ryder _most_ , but he knows he loves her _best_ at night, when the Pathfinder blurs and softens into the woman — impossibly lovely, impossibly dear — who dreamed in his arms on Aya. That woman was Gemma, and he carries her laughter in his heart wherever he goes.

And she is _his_.

The thought makes him smile, just as her quick message — _back in an hour, dinner at my place?_ — made him smile as soon as he saw it in his mailbox. Some days, despite the best efforts of Scourge, kett, and exiles, it seems he never stops. Other days are harder, and some are nightmares, but none are unbearable now. Not when he's surrounded by friends, and when Ryder — _Gemma_ — has opened herself to him.

The road may be long, and hard, but he is not afraid. How can he be, when she is so dauntless, so bright?

His omnitool pings with a new message two minutes after Ryder's promised return time.

_Sorry, sorry, got a little held up with Tann. Give me fifteen minutes to shower and catch my breath?_

_Of course,_ he writes back.

Fifteen minutes gives Jaal enough time to neaten his workspace, and to cast a few dubious glances at his cot. Ryder's business has kept her on the Nexus since they returned from Aya, and their shared moments have been far and few between. Tonight, he wants nothing more than to lay beside her, and listen to her breathing as he falls asleep, but only if she invites him to stay.

They are still so new to each other. He can afford to be patient, to savor every snatched minute, but if she asks —

He waits an extra five minutes before heading for her cabin, just in case, the palms of his hands warming with every step. Along the way, he passes Liam and Peebee, who greet him with nods and smiles — and in Liam's case, a friendly slap on the arm — and he wonders just how much they know, or how much Ryder has chosen to reveal.

_Not that there's much to reveal now_ , he thinks wryly. By the favors he called in on Aya, the resistance knows — and by extension, everyone on Aya — exactly how he feels about Ryder, and the news will reach the angara on the Nexus soon, if it hasn't already.

The news has certainly reached his mother. He should warn Ryder she's about to drown in a flood of ever-more invasive questions, but he promptly forgets all about it when Ryder opens her door and grins up at him.

"Hey." She stands on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Sorry I was late. Tann felt like lecturing me, and I couldn't figure out a way to escape that didn't involve faking illness."

He laughs as she takes his hand to draw him inside. "And how did you escape in the end?"

"Oh, I didn't. He would've kept going if Kandros hadn't paged him." Her bare feet leave tiny patches of condensation on the tiles, and she smells delicious: warm, clean skin with a hint of spice.

_I want to devour you,_ he thinks, for the fourth time in as many days, as Ryder tumbles onto the couch, bare legs stretched out the full length of the cushions. Her clothing is, as usual, plainly functional, no embellishments, but the loose tunic and shorts look well-worn and soft. Jaal remembers, with a clarity so great it's almost painful, how the skin under her breasts felt, and has to drag his attention back to the smiling woman below him.

The smiling woman who, he's very sure, has read his mind.

"You know," she says, her voice low and husky, "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to you looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Jaal asks, shifting from one foot to the other. Has he run up against some particular bit of humanity? There's so much unknown territory here, so much he has yet to explore.

"Like…I don't know." Her smile slips, sweet to wistful. "But I like it. Come sit with me?"

"As if I need an invitation." It takes a moment for him to settle against the cushions, then Ryder peels herself up and curls into his side. She smells even better up close, and sighs happily when he wraps his arm around her.

"I missed you," she says, when they've sat in silence a long moment.

"And I you," Jaal replies, easing her a little closer. His stomach rumbles faintly, but dinner can wait. He's content — no, he's _happy_ — to sit here, with Ryder's head on his shoulder, watching the lights of Nexus wash over her skin.

Ryder makes a little pleased noise. Silence falls again, and his stomach's rumbling grows steadily more insistent. He would sit as long as she wanted, but when one rumble is loud enough for even Ryder to hear, she sits up and gives him a quick, sweet kiss.

"Message received," she says. "Wait here, I'll grab dinner. Let me guess, paste for you?"

"Please — unless there's fruit left over from Aya."

"Got it." She pads away, tying her hair back with quick, decisive movements, and leaves Jaal in the quiet of her room. The small creature on her desk chirps to itself, but hides when he stands up.

Jaal has been in Ryder's room before; he doesn't like to think of those times — blood was usually involved, and screaming — but now they echo down from the lonely, unsure weeks when he spent every night wondering if he'd made the right decision, throwing in with these strangers from another galaxy. Time and kindness changed that, forged trust from his initial wariness, and in no small part thanks to Ryder's example. He had been so _annoyed_ when she kept asking him questions, always buzzing around him like an insect — but those days are a lifetime away. now.

He resolutely does not look at her bed, but it haunts the edge of his vision, all warm, rumpled sheets and pillows. If he looks at it, he'll imagine her in it, naked as on Aya, and then he'll be in no state to share a meal with her.

_She might be agreeable to that_ , an optimistic voice says in the back of his head. His stomach rumbles again, and he smiles to himself as he turns back to the other side of the room. Ryder may be agreeable, but his stomach is definitely not.

Her desk is neatly organized, stacks of datapads set to either side of her terminal, with a few scraps of paper piled on top of each other in front of the display. The top one is perfectly legible at a glance: _Check with Harry about Scott — any changes?_

He turns away before he can read anything else, and for the first time notices a heavy metal box sitting on the table near the couch. A holographic interface with the Initiative's logo glows above the lock, asking for a passcode.

Was this what Tann had lectured her about? Or is it part of some new mission? The door opening interrupts his speculation, and he turns to find Ryder smiling her wistful smile once more, a plate and a bowl in her hands.

"I see you've found my surprise," she says, holding a plate out to him. A pouch of paste takes up most of the space, but a few slices of fruit ring the edges, their smell so sharp his mouth waters. "Let's eat, and I'll tell you all about it."

Jaal takes his time over the fruit — who knows when he'll have something other than paste to eat? — while Ryder alternates spoonfuls of soup with bites of toasted bread. She eats quickly but neatly, and finishes in half his time.

"No, no, don't rush," she says, when he starts to put his half-finished dinner aside. "Sorry, take your time. This can wait." She raps the box with her knuckles, thoughtful as well as wistful now.

He finishes in three bites, in spite of her protests.

Once the plate and bowl have been cleared to her desk, Ryder kneels on the floor beside the table, and keys in her passcode. "Good thing I made it easy to remember," she says. "It's been six hundred years since I programmed this thing."

"Six hundred —" Something twists in his chest. Jaal stares at Ryder, the palms of his hands warm and his mouth a little dry. "Before you came here," he says, feeling foolish and awkward for no reason at all.

Ryder nods, her eyes not leaving the lock as it cycles. "We each got a foot locker, for personal effects. Strict weight limit, but everyone got to bring something from home." She looks up, no longer smiling, and Jaal feels the twist once more. It's so easy to look at her and think, _Ryder_ , not _alien_ , but he can't forget his first glimpse of her on Aya: narrow-headed, straight-legged, many-fingered. She came promising peace, just like the kett before her, and he had hated her for that.

He had been prepared to kill her.

So much has changed; she's dearer to him than the air in his lungs, and he wants the galaxy to know it, but seeing her in the dim room, kneeling beside her artifacts of a life gone for centuries, Jaal wonders if he can ever truly know her. She is dear, she is precious, and she is alien.

Then she smiles, and the distance between them closes to an arms'-reach. Not the Pathfinder, not Ryder, but _Gemma_ , and he would know her anywhere.

"You showed me paradise," she says, reaching out for his hand. "This isn't much, but — no one else has seen this. What I brought from home. Would you like to?"

"More than anything," he says, pulling her hand toward his heart. Gemma must feel the truth in what he says, not just hear it.

They stay like that for a heartbeat, her hand splayed on his chest, and then she reaches into the locker.

Her treasures are few. Flowers — _daisies,_ she says, _dandelions, lilacs —_ preserved in clear resin; a faded blanket; back-ups for her pictures and vids; a deflated ball, frayed at the seams; a few pieces of bright-colored jewelry; a hard, nubbly object she calls a _pinecone_ ; and four delicate books, with actual pages and covers.

"The Nexus has all the books and vids from right up until we left, but sometimes you just want the real thing," she says. "It was awful, trying to decide what to take with me. I got it narrowed down to these four, then sent the locker ahead before I could change my mind. And I _still_ forgot a book. Lucky for me, Scott decided to bring his copy."

"The advantage of having a brother."

"The advantage of having a brother who shares one of your favorite books." Gemma pulls her legs up to her chest and rests her head on her knees. "It's called _Watership Down_ ," she murmurs. "I'll have to ask him if I can borrow it —" A brief catch in her voice, like a splinter driving deep into one's finger. "— when he wakes up."

She rubs her eyes. "It's pretty sad that I'm lonely when I've got SAM in my head all the time, right?"

When Jaal reaches for her, she lets him pull her up and into his lap. Gemma settles against him without a sound, except for one wavering breath, and Jaal doesn't try to bridge the silence with platitudes. Right now, her sadness is not just for an absent brother, but for a home, and a galaxy, that she will never see again.

Jaal tries to imagine leaving behind his family, and the bright days of Aya, but the idea will not take shape in his mind. The breathless audacity of the Initiative awes him, and breaks his heart, and he cannot comprehend it.

_Why_? he thinks, as Gemma's breath warms his throat.

"I don't regret it," she says, out of nowhere. "Coming here. It was like a dream — no one had ever gone so far, and I was going with my family — how could I say no? But sometimes, it just seems…so huge. Sometimes I miss Earth."

"You miss home," he says.

"No," she says, leaning back until their gazes meet. "Home is —" She barely hesitates before plunging forward. "Home is _here_ , Jaal. It's Andromeda. It's —"

His breath catches.

"— you," Gemma says, and his heart is fire and light.

 

***

 

As open as Jaal is, it isn't always what he says that best conveys what he's feeling. Gemma's no expert, but her understanding of angaran body language is growing exponentially every day, and the tremor that runs through Jaal as soon as she's done talking is clear as a shout.

She hadn't planned a big confession when she invited him down for dinner. She hadn't even planned to show him what was inside the locker till she got it back to the ship and thought _Now what the hell am I going to do with this_? After all, she hadn't missed what was inside for eight months, and just because SAM told her it had been pulled out of storage didn't mean she had to do anything with it.

Then Jaal appeared in her doorway, the still-surprising angles of his face lighting up as he saw her, and Gemma thought _Oh, now I get it._ The locker wasn't for her anymore — not really, not the way she planned when she packed it, eight months or six hundreds years ago. It was for Jaal.

She wishes she'd done a better job packing it. Pinecones, flowers, and books — he could have found any of that on the Nexus, or on Eos. What did any of that mean to him? How did it tell him anything about Earth?

Gemma opens her mouth, feeling obscurely like she needs to apologize, when Jaal makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a purr, and pulls her up so they face each other, with her thighs braced on either side of his.

"You are a wonder," he says, one hand resting on her hip while the other tugs her hair loose. A simple gesture, but it still makes Gemma shudder. "I said it before, but — you came so far, to be here, now, with me."

She nods, not sure if she can speak around the sudden tightness in her throat. Eight months ago, six hundred years ago, she had no idea someone named Jaal Ama Darav would be alive, much less waiting for her when she stepped off the _Tempest._ When she left the Milky Way, the Scourge hadn't yet touched the angara. The kett were a distant, unimaginable threat, and the Remnant vaults held only echoes.

And then she slept her cold, dreamless sleep, while two galaxies spun on, drawing her ever closer to this moment, this contact, this unexpected person who touches her with awe, and with love.

"I'm so glad I did," she whispers, and bends down to kiss him.

_SAM,_ she subvocalizes a heartbeat later. _Mind looking elsewhere for a bit?_

_Of course, Pathfinder._

_Much obliged._

Jaal makes a pleased noise against her lips, and then his mouth opens and she tastes him, warm, sweet from the fruit and a little electric. This, at least, is familiar, and Gemma sends out a quick prayer of thanks to whoever's listening that kissing managed to make it across dark space too.

_That's not all that made it across_. She shivers at the thought, pressing closer and biting at Jaal's lip just to hear him groan. His pulse beats faster under her hands as the kiss deepens — she's almost out of breath, but she's not letting go till she's about to pass out — and the hand on her hip squeezes tight.

He breaks away first, reluctantly, and strokes her loose hair back from her face. "You'll drive me mad," he says, his voice rough-edged enough to send sparks shooting up Gemma's spine. She can't help wriggling a little as heat starts to build between her legs, and Jaal lets out a heavy, low growl.

"Tease," he says.

"I think the word you used before was _temptress_ ," she says against his mouth. Before he can reply, she kisses him again.

It's so easy to lose herself in sensation: the hot, slick kiss, the friction of her shirt against her nipples, Jaal's hands moving restlessly through her hair and down her back. God, she could do this for hours, for _days_ , tasting him and touching every inch of his skin that's in her reach.

Not that there's much of that, because Jaal's still got everything but the rofjinn on — and thank god for that, because she hasn't had the chance to figure out exactly how _that_ comes off, and she's pretty sure wrecking it would be a solid moodkiller.

The thought almost gives her the giggles, but then Jaal's hands slide down, and down, and cup her ass, and the urge to laugh fades. She gasps instead, his touch jolting through her, and arches her back as he squeezes.

He groans again, the sound darker and richer now. The heat between her legs is almost painful, and she's already soaking through her shorts. No bra, no panties, just one layer of clothes between her and — all of Jaal's clothes.

Gemma pulls back from the kiss, hiding her smile at Jaal's disappointed sigh behind her hair, and smoothes her hands up toward the clasps of his uniform. "You didn't have anything else planned for tonight, did you?" she asks, somewhat rhetorically.

Jaal shakes his head, watching her face with unadorned hunger. It's a little terrifying, to be at the center of so much desire, but then he presses a gentle kiss to the hollow of her throat, and all Gemma feels is delight, and a vast ocean of gratitude.

She loves him. She _loves_ him, this strange and marvelous person, who touches her with such assurance, such need — and it's high time she showed him that she did.

"Stay with me, then," she says. "Please."

Jaal kisses her again, fierce and hot. "Always," he says, as he mouths his way down her neck.

_Jesus._ She closes her eyes, melting more and more as he inches lower, only to whine with disappointment when he stops at the collar of her tunic. "Here," she says, voice strained. "Let me —"

Jaal huffs a laugh. "So impatient," he says, with his mouth still pressed against her skin. "Who's the tease now?"

" _You_ are, Jaal, dammit." She laughs, wriggling as she tries to reach the hem of her tunic. Maybe if she gets naked, he'll take pity on her and undo the clasps on his uniform himself. If this goes on much longer, she won't have the brain cells for speech, much less figuring out angaran clothing. "Come on, let me — oh!"

He stands up smoothly, lifting her easily with his hands still cupping her ass. On reflex, Gemma wraps her legs around his hips, and clings tight to his shoulders as he makes his careful way to her bed. Somehow, he manages to keep kissing her every step of the way, till she's nearly boneless with want.

Clearly, Jaal didn't skip the _kiss your lover till they lose their mind_ seminar.

Gently, ever so gently, he eases her down onto the bed, but he lingers over her, watching her with that combination of need and delight that she remembers so clearly from Aya. It's humbling, having someone look at you like that. Gemma looks away, out toward the window, her cheeks flushing red.

A part of Gemma — the scared, self-doubting part that never really shuts up or goes away — yells at her to roll up in the sheets, or at least cover herself. _Your thighs are too thick and your breasts are too small, you're too sturdy, you're not pretty, you don't deserve this._

Why couldn't she have left that voice behind in the Milky Way?

Gemma breathes deep. She remembers the water, and Jaal's voice wrapping around her, warm as the sunlight: _You are more lovely than anyone I have ever known_.

She turns back to him, aching deep inside her chest. "I love you," she says.

The words hang in the air, light as a dragonfly. Jaal exhales slowly, and his shoulders straighten, as if he's put down a burden he's been carrying for a long, long time. "My darling Gemma," he says, then reaches for the clasp at his shoulder.

This isn't the quick undressing on Aya; they have all the time in the world, and so Gemma doesn't protest when Jaal takes his time shedding his uniform. She watches instead, marveling at the long, ropey muscles in his arms, the shadowed hollows on his chest.

Later, she'll learn that his back and hands are far more sensitive than his neck, and that her tongue on his thighs will leave him shaking and begging in seconds. So much to learn and remember, and they're only getting started.

Jaal pauses, half out of his uniform. "You're crying," he says, voice thick.

"Am I?" Gemma wipes her face with the back of her hand, and holds it up to find her skin slick with tears. "Yeah, I am. Don't worry," she adds. "It's a good cry."

Jaal nods, and lifts her hand to his mouth. His lips brush her knuckles, once, twice, and then he lets go to pull the last of his clothes away.

Gemma swallows. The unfamiliar shape of his cock — a narrow shaft topped by a long, heavy head — rises from between his legs. She knows exactly how easily he would slip inside her, exactly how good he would feel as he fills her, but she's still wearing her damn clothes, and that's unacceptable.

She must have said that out loud, because Jaal bursts out laughing, head thrown back in delight.

"Oh, laugh it up," she says, sitting up and pulling her tunic over her head. "But this is going to go —"

At the precise moment her hands and arms are tangled in the tunic, Jaal's hand wraps around her wrists, and he gently pushes her back to the bed. Her pulse leaps wildly as his breath fans over her bare breasts.

"Jaal —" she chokes out, squeezing her thighs together. "Please —"

"All in good time," he murmurs. "Be patient."

_Fuck patience,_ she wants to scream. She wants to feel him inside her, high and hard and perfect, but then his mouth closes over a nipple, and every damn thought in her head evaporates.

It wouldn't take any effort to break his hold, but Gemma's lost, washed away by the sensation of his tongue laving over her skin. She tries to not to make any noise, more out of pride than from needing to stay quiet, but when his teeth brush her nipple, she cries out, arching her back and panting. Her thighs are trembling, she's sweating, and he hasn't even gotten started.

By the time Jaal takes pity on her and pulls her tunic away, she can barely make eye contact with him. One touch, that's all it would take to set her off, and she's almost ashamed at how easily she fell apart.

He kisses her closed eyelids, then her lips. "You're exquisite," he tells her, stroking her cheek. "You're —" He lowers himself against her, his cock hot as a brand against her thigh.

When he doesn't go on, but rolls his hips against her, Gemma pulls her scattered thoughts back into something like order. "What can I —" Jaal licks her neck, and her capacity for speech disappears again.

Jaal props himself on his elbows, close enough for his nose to brush hers. "I want…" He pauses, eyes narrowed. Gemma tries not to squirm under him, and knows she's fighting a losing battle. His hand tightens on her thigh, and she holds her breath, ready for him to enter her — but then he sighs, almost dreamy, and ducks his head to whisper in her ear.

"I want to feel you, all around me," he says. "I've dreamed of that, every night, ever since — how you would feel, how warm you would be, how soft —" He groans, buries one hand deep in her hair. "But first," he said, the words vibrating through her throat, "I want to taste you."

"Oh my god," Gemma wheezes. She's going to die. She's going to _expire_ , and she pities Cora for having to find a way to explain the circumstances to Tann. "You're not real. I'm dreaming."

Jaal smirks down at her as he backs toward the edge of the bed. "Another idiom," he says, "but one that apparently spanned galaxies." He kneels on the floor, and just the sight of his hands on her thighs is nearly enough to make Gemma come. "I often feel that way, with you," he says, then spreads her thighs open.

She closes her eyes as his tongue brushes the cleft between her hip and thigh. He's going to tease her until she screams, she's sure of it, she's going to go out of her mind — but Jaal doesn't tease; he licks her open, his tongue riding over her clitoris until white light bursts against her eyelids and she writhes on the bed.

"There," she whines, as he slips a finger inside her. _Thank god for miracles of biology_ , she thinks, before her mind shatters and the first spasm starts deep within her.

Jaal moans, the vibrations sliding hot and electric through her, as he takes her closer, closer, always on the brink but never quite falling over, until he curls his finger inside her and circles his tongue one last time.

Gemma cries out his name, scrabbling in the sheets and grinding her hips toward him. White light bursts against her eyelids, and she drowns, lost in the heavy waves of pleasure.

She isn't sure how long it takes her to come down, but she's a breathless, shaking mess when she does, and Jaal is still kneeling behind her legs. Talking is out of the question, but she reaches for him, and he climbs clumsily up to lie beside her.

His need is obvious; his cock throbs insistently against her belly, but he kisses her like he has all the time in the world, slow and easy.

It's only been four days, Gemma thinks to herself, as Jaal starts to move in slow circles against her, and his breath comes short. What will it be like when they really know each other?

She wraps one leg over his hip, and shifts up until his cock rests between her legs.

"Ready?" she whispers.

All she gets for a reply is a full-body shudder and a nod. His eyes never leaves her face as she strokes his cock, guiding him slowly into her cunt. There's a little burn as he enters her, but she shifts her hips down and takes him in a single smooth stroke.

Jaal's hands fist in her hair. "Yes," he hisses, as she rolls her hips down, taking him to the root. "Gemma —"

"I know," she says, heat rising in her again. God, he feels amazing. "I've got you. Let me —" She gives up on talking, on everything but meeting him thrust for thrust.

It's an awkward position, but that just means she has to go slow, matching her speed to his, and if the noises Jaal is making are anything to go by, he doesn't mind at all.

A few minutes later, he rolls her onto her back, without ever slipping out of her. "I need —" he whispers, thrusts going erratic, and Gemma just locks her legs around his hips and holds on for dear life.

Holding off is impossible. She comes in seconds, her hips jerking with every spasm, and then Jaal lets out a broken, helpless cry and surges into her, every muscle straining.

He only closes his eyes at the very end, when he sinks down to rest his forehead against hers. No one else has ever watched her while they come, and Gemma feels another wave of tears threatening.

Well, if she's going to be moved by sex, she can be reasonably sure Jaal won't complain.

She rubs his back with both hands, murmuring nonsense as he comes back to himself, clenching around him until he groans and kisses her. He's still hard, but the loose muscles under her hands tell Gemma he's ready for sleep, not for round two. Fine by her; she can't think of anything she wants more right now than to fall asleep with Jaal wrapped around her.

"I didn't know you were so literal," she says, as he pulls away.

"Literal?" he asks, blinking vaguely down at her.

"You said you wanted to devour me," she says, grinning as he sighs and laughs.

"And so I did, and will." He shifts, and slowly withdraws. Gemma pushes up to her hands and knees to crawl toward the pillows — she should shower again, but trying to walk after two record-breaking orgasms seems like a recipe for disaster, so she just flops on her belly, worn out and glowing with satisfaction.

Jaal collapses next to her, and slips one arm underneath her to draw her close. "My darling," he murmurs, his mouth pressed to her temple.

She smiles into her pillow, and lets her head fall to rest against Jaal's chest. "Thank you," she says, as she starts the long slide down to sleep. It isn't just gratitude for this night, or for Aya, and by Jaal's sigh, she knows he understands. She's thanking him for that first risk, for his trust, and for being here when she woke up, ready to welcome her home.

_This is only the beginning_ , she thinks, and closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come talk to me on [Tumblr!](http://theherocomplex.tumblr.com) <3


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